In Death, Sacrifice
by Blue Mage Quartet
Summary: Because one form of sacrifice is not so different from another. Rebecca, Chris, Jill, and the rest are Grey Wardens destined to end the Blight ravishing Ferelden- different place, same threat. AU-ish series of ficlets inspired by Dragon Age. Ficlets containing party banter, interactions, and more. Chapter 1- Dutiful Circle Mage Rebecca attempts conversation with the apostate Ada.


In Death, Sacrifice

-Chapter 1, **Devoue **_devoted, dutiful_

_"Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsaken."_

AN: Hey look I wrote something! The Resident Evil cast as the heroes of Ferelden traveling to defeat the Blight. You all can decide whether this is a decent idea or something horrible. :') I partially blame my friend ruingaraf for inspiring and encouraging this. Anyway, on with the story! This chapter is more or less a prelude sorta thing, I basically plain for this to be a series of ficlets/drabbles, but it might turn into a chaptered fic, concerning possible party banter and situations. Hope you enjoy!

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Rebecca, mage of the circle of Ferelden, nervously clutches her aspen wood staff tightly in her right hand as she approaches the other mage traveling with the Grey Wardens. She had been tapped to join the illustrious group, a calling that she could refuse only at her peril. She was known throughout the Circle Tower and the surrounding area for her knowledge and aptitude concerning all manner of salves, poultices and balms, and her natural skill with the Creation school.

Though she had never seen a darkspawn in her 18 years of life she figured, you whack something enough it ought to die eventually. The accounts listed in the Circle library of darkspawn encounters curdled her blood, but Rebecca was traveling with warriors of more than formidable skill whose very purpose was to defeat the darkspawn menace. No allies could be more appropriate than they.

Her thoughts turned to the motley band of unlikely travel companions. The one that had first introduced himself to her was a stout, broad shouldered warrior named Chris. He posessed a kind blue eyes, chiseled features, and a natural charisma and energy that made Rebecca smile, yet while in battle he was ruthlessly efficient- and prone to relying on his considerable muscles rather than the hefty blade sheathed on his back. Rebecca rued every time Chris removed his chainmail gloves to show her cracked and bloody bruised knuckles purpled in bruises, but at the same time there was no one else she would trust with her life.

Always at his side was his partner and equal, Jill. Her chestnut brown hair worn in a bob may not have been very indicative of her talents, but her dextrous fingers were adept at liberating purses of their contents before the owners were aware they had been stolen in the first place. Her easy going smile and friendly personality belied her deftness with a blade and how she could cunningly spot weak points in enemy armor. Rebecca had tried to suss out the incredibly close relationship between the two senior members of the company, wondering if perhaps unspoken feelings might endanger the safety of the group as a whole. But so far, the two seemed merely the closest of friends.

Trailing behind the inseperable duo, who had announced they would be scouting ahead, were the two junior members of the Wardens. One was Chris' sister, Claire. Rebecca had taken an instant liking to the girl, who was close to her age. Claire was a crackshot with longbow and crossbow alike and was fiercely protective of her brother and friends. Claire's hair, the color of which reminded Rebecca of cherry trees in the fall, was bound in a tight ponytail and swayed in the breeze as she chatted amicably with her friend. A serious, determined figure, Leon's dirty blonde hair and usually stoic expression concealed a dedicated warrior. At first Rebecca thought he might be surly and grim but he was surprisingly approachable and fond of cracking jokes.

At the rear of their party was the man Rebecca had yet to form an opinion of- William- _Billy,_ Rebecca corrected herself. He was attractive enough, with sharp, aquiline features, a muscular frame that seemed to fit perfectly in his armor, and straight dark hair. But any attempts she made towards starting a conversation fizzled and died as he was rather standoffish and prone to short, concise sentences.

Rebecca's mind wandered away from the group of people she was traveling with towards the purpose of their journey. The Wardens were several miles south of the Circle Tower and Lake Calenhad, traveling towards Redcliffe on information that the Arl there could provide assistance against the Blight threatening to drown Ferelden in bloodshed.

Heat from the sweltering Ferelden summer and the warm wool from her standard issue apprentice robes (custom tailored in green and white with shades of earthy brown, her favorite colors)- and perhaps a little of her own anxiety at the prospect of talking to an apostate, someone so fundamentally different from herself- caused sweat to drip down her forehead. She didn't even want to think of the state of her companions- boiled leather and constrictive steel chainmail provided dubious comfort in such warm weather. She wipes it away fussily before haltingly speaking to the woman closest to her.

"E-excuse me?" Rebecca hopes she doesn't sound too intimidated as the words leave her mouth. She was unsure how to approach the solitary woman. Whereas the rest of Rebecca's companions were traveling to end the Blight for the greater good of Fereldan, a greater purpose that united them despite their differences, the apostate's reasons were entirely her own.

The sole other mage in their traveling group merely cocked her head towards the younger woman and narrowed her eyes, "If you've something to say then out with it. Speak your piece or begone, I have no time to waste on your stammering."

Rebecca flushed pink, the Apostate mage's abrasive attitude and general air of unapproachability doing little to dispel the long held image of the _maleficar_ as they were depicted in the Circle Tower's countless tomes concerning undocumented mages.

Ada, as she had rather offputtingly introduced herself, was a lithe, tall woman whose origins Rebecca had trouble pinning down. Her skin, which was quite pale and likely ruled out any Rivaini heritage, was smooth and unmarked, and the robes she wore plunged rather low, crimson red exacerbating the almost eerie bloodlessness of her skin. Her scarlet robes were cinched at the waist and her lower body was covered in a dress as dark as the night sky.

Rebecca wondered if the slit showing her sculpted legs was as much for comfort and ease of movement as it was for distracting those with a wandering gaze.

"Is the little Circle mouse struck dumb with fear? Are you going to start again with your self-righteous diatribe or do I have to coax the words out myself?"

The creation mage frowns as Ada's almond shaped eyes turn on her, cool and blue-gray much like the endless expanse of Lake Calenhad that surrounded the Tower where Rebecca had spent most of her life.

"No, in fact. I was wondering what compels you to the entropic school of magic."

Rebecca inwardly smiles at herself in pride over not stumbling over her words. Entropy was a school of magic dedicated to manipulation of the mind and body- atrophying muscles, hexing enemies with lethal bad luck, absorbing their health or mana- Rebecca considered it a cruel practice. At least with Primal spells one was killing swiftly.

"Surely you don't think you yourself have the aptitude for it? A selfless, gratingly cheerful Spirit Healer bewitching the mind and befuddling the senses- the very notion is ridiculous," Ada says with a snort as she shifts a lock of dark hair out of her face and Rebecca is reminded of the crows that would circle and cry over the broken bodies of mages that had leapt from the tower to their death.

"How can you do such things to people? Inflicting horrors unimaginable on their minds, wracking their limbs with pain and rendering them useless- it's inhumane! It's-" Rebecca pauses, unnerved as her gaze draws upward to the staff Ada carried and the hissing snake bearing it's fangs carved the staff's head. To a Creation mage such as Rebecca, whose magical art focused on restoration, cleansing, and healing, life was to be preserved, not destroyed.

"Unfair? Pragmatic? It is our very gift of magic that sets us apart from others and by its very nature advantageous, perhaps unfairly so. Would you rather all mages find fulfillment in knitting torn flesh and relieving aching muscles? Do you suppose I should wave my arms about, gesticulating wildly and announcing my intentions to the bandits and darkspawn that constantly harry us? Ask their permission?"

"I.. suppose that's fair," Rebecca admits quietly, looking up at her own staff, several elfroot vines entwined about the emerald affixed at the top.

"_Surviving_ is what's fair, Rebecca. You do not hear of our companions voicing complaint about doing what is necessary, do you?" Ada laughs then and the sound is high and keening.

"I guarantee that the enemies we face have no such qualms concerning honor or fairness. Know that should we be set upon by darkspawn they would not hold back. And the Maker whom you hold so dear would not be listening to your last benedictions as darskpawn blades sever your head from your body."

Rebecca is cowed into silence at the startling truth of Ada's words. The raven haired mage crosses her arms, "I grow weary of this conversation as well as your presence. Leave."

Rebecca turns away, shaking her head at the fruitfulness of ever starting conversation with the cold hearted apostate. Though she knows the Maker disapproves she fleetingly, secretly hopes that He might see fit that a darkspawn arrow perhaps find Ada as its next target.


End file.
